Friends, Romans, countrymen lend me your ears. I have a story to tell. One of; greed, stupidity, lies, desperation and repetition. Friends, Romans, countrymen lend me your ears. I have a story to tell… And so forth…

Roll up, roll up, come one, come all. Welcome to the main event, I have a story to tell. One of; scum, villainy, backstabbing, deceit, corruption, lack of self respect. And of course repetition, I have a story to tell… And so forth…

Five pounds at the door, what’s your poison? Are you sitting comfortably, as I have a story to tell. One of; Schemes, gold digging, absurdity, moronicness, depravity, obsession, pretend best friends, scum and of course repetition. I have a story to tell… And so forth.

Many moons ago I was but a lad, knee high to a grasshopper so to speak and I learned a salient piece of information: Liars always get found out in the end and even with my memory problems it stuck with me. However in my neck of the woods lived many a miscreant, many a bounder, more than a single wretch and a whole phalanx worth of fools.

I stuck to my task of manfully ignoring them but they persisted, calling them out in public failed to have the desired effect so I resorted to climbing on my soapbox to explain the situation for any and all who might listen. Alas that failed so I decided to start laughing at them, that also failed to have the desired effect. So I left, guess what?

Yep that’s right – they followed me. Repeat to fade.

Exit stage right and Lord Lucan it for a bit, grow a beard and remove myself from society. Polite or otherwise, roll back the years in my mind and find answers to questions like; Did George Lucas really have to include Jar Jar, why doesn’t money grow on trees, who invented the question mark, will the Scotland team make it to the World Cup and can Mr Burns ever solve his catsup/ketchup quandary? You know, the important things.

These problems however must be contemplated in utmost silence and around certain individuals, who we will call its, this is neigh impossible because some people just like the sound of their own voice. Attention in any form will suffice; good, bad indifferent. These its just don’t care, they will nag and moan, weasel and slink their way into your mind to take up residence and become a constant presence.

However once these sub humans have been identified and recognised face to face they can be avoided at all cost, after all some people just don’t change. Yet still they wait, crouched in the shadows cackling gleefully as they seem to think their victory is at hand, living in one hell of a bubble these its are frequent visitors to club denial and frequent patrons of cloud cuckoo land. In fact they fail to tell the truth so often they deceive themselves and they call themselves smart, oh glorious irony thy name is muck.

Shall I dawdle, shall I stagnate? Or shall I take my vengeance upon them and move on with a nod of the head, a tip of the hat and a wink to the ladies? I think the latter is the course of the day. But what do I know, I’m the village idiot…

Screenplay for sale, screenplay for sale!


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